


5 times Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter weren’t dating (and 1 time they definitely were)

by Ingi



Series: 5 different stories starring the same 1 couple [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Coming Out, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4421360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingi/pseuds/Ingi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These times, at Hogwarts, the most asked question is "Are Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy dating?"</p><p>The answer is usually no, until it isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 times Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter weren’t dating (and 1 time they definitely were)

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't the first Drarry fic I've written, but somehow it's the first I'm posting, since the other ones belong to fest and things, so I have no excuse for this terrible piece of writing.
> 
> Well, do try to enjoy!

**1\. When Hermione and Pansy allied to ask (because it was so obvious)**

They had seen it going on for a while.

In fact, the first time they met to discuss it, Hermione claimed she'd known since fourth grade, while Pansy insisted any fool could've seen it since the first time they met. It was a lie, of course, since she'd only known after sixth year, not that she'd ever tell Hermione that; she'd been puzzled when she finally figured it out, because even if the signals were all there, they were so wrapped in animosity that anybody could have gotten confused.

Nevertheless, the girls formed a tentative alliance over the firm belief that _those two_ were hiding their relationship from them. And if there was one thing Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson agreed on, it was that their friends didn't have the right to keep any secret for themselves after everything they'd made them go through. Harry was a sweetheart, but he seemed to live for trouble, and Hermione had always loved him too much not to dive headfirst into danger after him; Draco, on his side, was fairly obnoxious in general, even if he had his good moments, and Pansy wasn't about to break her one sacred rule for friendship: be loyal, but demand gossip in return.

For all those reasons, one of the most terrifying pair of unlikely friends Hogwarts had ever seen was born.

They spent a whole week discussing the way they'd ask, because Hermione couldn't help overthinking everything in her mad search for perfection. And honestly, because Pansy just _loved_ making 'pros and cons' lists, especially when she was working with someone who actually appreciated her need to use a colour coded chart to classify by relevance.

Still, reaching a compromise seemed impossible, until the afternoon in which Draco and Harry plopped down in a table that was situated in the darkest corner of the library, heads ridiculously close as they had a whispered conversation that looked far more intimate that it should have. Pansy, who was nursing a headache from arguing with Hermione for the last few hours, got up from her chair abruptly and smirked at her companion's alarmed face.

"Darling, we've been thinking too much. The only way to get an answer is making the question as they would."

"With no tact whatsoever?" Hermione asked, raising a brow, but Pansy only smiled wider.

"Exactly."

That was the great thing about two great minds allying: they didn't have to waste time in unnecessary explanations. Hermione got up swiftly and trailed after Pansy, taking note of the way the boys jumped on their seats when they noticed them.

"Pansy. Granger" Draco greeted sternly.

He pulled away from Harry, who stayed on his ground and stared at them warily, offering Hermione only half a smile. But there was no unseeing what they'd seen, and those two silly idiots surely knew that, for Draco betrayed his nervousness with that constant tap of his fingers on the table and Harry blushed up to his ears, just like every time he was caught in a tight situation.

They knew them too well.

"Are you two together?" Pansy blurted out, never one for subtlety after her patience ran out.

The boys exchanged a glance, and they both smiled. They were about to crack, for sure, the witches thought.

Nothing further from the truth.

"Of course we're together" Harry snorted. "We're both here, sharing this table, studying _together_."

Hermione was so not taking that joke of an answer.

"The exams aren't in months and you always study the week before" she said, with that disapproving crinckle in her lips that Ron always said it reminded him of McGonagall, and exhuding waves of ' _do you think I'm stupid?_ '. "Besides, I can count the times I've seen you in the library with the fingers in one hand."

"Potter needed help in Potions" Draco was quick to reply, shrugging in false nonchalance.

Pansy scowled and stared at Hermione to make sure she hadn't believed that bullshit. She hadn't. Honestly, that girl never failed to impress her... not that the idea of Draco casually helping Harry to study _in the beggining of the term_ was hard to find ridiculous. Besides, they were sitting in the corner people always used to snog; it was practically a Hogwarts tradition. Just how _naive_ did they think they were?

"Ah, of course" Pansy sniggered. "He needs to learn how to brew lube."

Hermione sputtered, taken by surprise, but the boys had the same reaction, so Pansy labelled it as collateral damage. It was a pity they recovered so quickly, Draco sighing dramatically and getting up, after what he made an undetermined gesture in Harry's general direction.

"Leave it, Pansy. Potter and I have a truce, that's all."

"Did you seal it with a kiss or with a blowj-"

"Pansy!"

She rolled her eyes. "We're getting on well enough, Hermione, but this friendship is never going to work if you insist on ruining all my fun."

But it was too late. By then, Draco had already fled the scene, leaving a very embarrassed Harry in his wake. He shifted his weight from one foot to another and shook his head, seemingly making a decision.

"'Mione, really, we're not dating" he said, and turned to Pansy for a harder remark, all narrowed eyes and tense shoulders. "We _aren't_."

"God, Harry, there's no need to lie, you know you can tell m-"

Hermione's encouragement was left unsaid after Harry walked away, ignoring her in a way he rarely dared to. Her mouth hung open for a few seconds before she remembered how to close it again. She looked at her friend, who was picking at her nails half-heartedly, and frowned to herself.

"Merlin," Pansy said, without looking up, "that went well."

 

* * *

 

**2\. When Blaise asked (because it was getting annoying)**

It wasn't that he was bothered by Draco having a sex life.

No, really, it wasn't that. He had his own trysts, after all, and had been the first to have them anyway, so officially, he'd _won_. Besides, he was the one who always encouraged his friends to live a little bit, so he was glad Draco was getting some, or being happily in love, or whatever he was doing. For all he cared, he and Potter could marry with Snape's portrait as their priest and go live in a Muggle neighbourhood forever,  performing ritual dances once a month in order to appease Lucius' rage.

Blaise didn't give a flying shite about it, _as long as they left him alone_.

That was the part Draco didn't seem to get, if the loud sounds disturbing his sleep every night were anything to go by. Because apparently, his friend's perfect casting went to hell every time Potter did whatever he did with his tongue, and the Muffliato spell that protected Blaise's poor ears suddenly lost most of his effectiveness; not enough for the couple to be heard by the entire dorm, but enough for them to wake Blaise up. How convenient.

He could cast a Muffliato himself, he guessed, but he'd always been shite at that spell and he was not looking forward the side effects of a bad casting; he'd seen them too often after Longbottom's efforts and they were never nice.

And yet, Blaise could have forgiven the couple, because he'd been friends with Draco for a long time and Potter was a pretty cool dude once you got to know him, apart from the fact he'd killed the Dark Lord and all that, which Blaise kind of approved too. So yes, Blaise could have forgiven them... if they hadn't been such _tossers_.

Truth be told, he didn't need to ask. It was bloody obvious that Potter was the one making Draco get all starry-eyed, because well, that had never been a secret to begin with. But Blaise would have also bet his firstborn that Potter wasn't an impossible dream for Draco anymore, hadn't been in a long while; he could see the change in the way they interacted, and he'd always taken pride in his perceptiveness.

So when he decided to get the explicit confession, just because he bloody _could_ and Draco owed him, he wasn't expecting the answer he got.

"We're not dating, Blaise."

He hadn't put up with them for weeks for that shite.

"Yeah, okay, Draco, you two are not dating and your Father's best friends with Weasley Senior."

Draco grimaced, gesturing carelessly as if to dissipate the thought, and glared at him.

"I'm _not_ dating Potter, I said."

"And I don't believe you" Blaise replied. "You shouldn't lie to someone who has to stand you moaning Potter's name every night, you pillock. Your Muffliato charms aren't that strong, you know?"

The bit about Potter's name, fortunately, wasn't true, but it made Draco's face redden, and that was a small victory that Blaise cherished.

"Can't a man wank in peace?" Draco blurted out.

For a second, Blaise was sure he'd broken him, because his friend would never, ever, _ever_ confess he was head over heels for Potter unless he were under torture, and maybe not even then, and admitting he wanked while moaning Potter's name was pretty close to that, and much more than he expected to get. But then he remembered one of Draco's family motto, that more or less said that sometimes it was necessary to offer small truths to hold a big lie, and he understood that it was what Draco must have been doing, because saying he wasn't dating Potter _was_ a big fat lie, and he'd tried to distract him from that.

"Why, in the name of Merlin's thirteenth lover, are you still trying to lie to me?" he asked, closing his eyes tightly while he gathered his self restraint. "I'm the guy who sleeps in the bed next to yours, Draco. I hear you two doing _everything_ , and then I hear Potter leaving. And I have no idea of how that kid is going to be an Auror, if even when he's trying to be silent, he makes more noise than an enraged dragon."

"Ah, so you hear someone sneaking out of my bed, and you _decide_ it has to be Potter!" Draco exclaimed, giving him a smile that was all teeth. "Of course, it doesn't occur to you that it could be anyone else, or that I could be fucking Potter _but_ not dating him. You just automatically decide that it has to be Potter, and that we're dating, because you're that bloody obsessed with the idea."

Blaise blinked and tilted his head.

"Wha-"

"I'm worried about you, Blaise" his friend continued in a sweet tone, smirking. "I'm really, really worried. After all, that sick fantasy of yours is-"

"Oh, Merlin, _shut up_!"

Honestly, the nerve of some people. Blaise knew Draco well enough to know when to admit defeat, so he stormed out of the room in search of Potter, who would be, he hoped, more straightforward, as honesty seemed to be one of his main characteristics. But either he hadn't counted on Draco's influence in the Golden Boy, or Harry Potter was, in reality, a sly arsehole.

After the fourth time Potter doubted his mental health and offered to take him to Madam Pomfrey, Blaise dropped the topic. _Bloody prats_.

 

* * *

 

**3\. When Seamus and Dean asked (because they had a betting pool)**

Seamus had introduced the idea in his very first day at Hogwarts, after some pretty successful years of leaving his family penniless every time they dared to make a bet with him. Truly, they should have known better. Only his grandpa, the one who taught him, had managed to double his money, and his mother had been clever enough not to bet a single galleon against Seamus.

Wizards and witches did know about bets, but in Hogwarts, the practice was conspicuous by its absence. And that was something Seamus couldn't allow. He loved the risk, the fun, and especially, the _money_. It hadn't take him much to convince his best mate, Dean, to help him with his business. After that, it had only gotten better.

They were the perfect partners, but there was one thing they didn't agree on: Dean prefered to let things run their course, while Seamus couldn't resist a little bit of interfering. Well, that and the tiny detail that Dean didn't like making bets on some things, like people's private lifes, which in Seamus' opinion, was nonsense.

However, sometimes gossips got so juicy that both friends renounced arguing for the sake of fun, which usually meant Dean ignoring his two cardinal rules. There weren't many times in which such a thing happened, but Harry and Malfoy happened to be the perfect trigger of such a wonderful event. They usually were the hot topic in Hogwarts, for starters, and _everybody_ had something to say about them and their interactions; besides, they were bloody interesting, there was no denying.

It was only reasonable that Dean and Seamus started a betting pool.

They began in first year, with simple things like when would the next Potter-Malfoy fight be, or who'd cast the first hex, and they were awestruck by the answer they got, by the incredible amount of people putting their money on this or that choice. By third year, the two friends could have bought a Firebolt.

From that experience, they learnt that people were very, very nosy, and that Harry and Malfoy were, pardon the pun, _a safe bet_. No matter what the betting pool was about, people would want to participate if it involved those two wankers, and neither Seamus nor Dean were the kind of people who wasted opportunities like those. So the betting pools on Harry and Malfoy continued, developing through the years at the same time their relationship did.

But the last few betting pools that the boys had created were going on for too long, and Seamus, as he usually did, had gotten impatient. And Dean could only stand so many complains before getting dead tired of them. He'd cracked after a month, because seriously, those wankers were taking their time, and it hurt no one if Seamus and him stuck their noses in their business a bit.

"Hey, Harry," Dean said casually one morning, over the breakfast table, "you've been hanging out with Malfoy a lot, lately."

Harry, the poor fellow, lifted his head from his toast and frowned, as if he didn't know what to make out of that comment. He'd gotten Hermione's attention, too, for she stopped both reading and eating, which she always did at the same time in the mornings, and looked at him.

"I... He's teaching me Potions."

" _Really_?" Hermione mumbled under her breath.

And while Dean wouldn't have minded dealing with that one mystery, Seamus was unstoppable once he got in track.

"Love potions?" he suggested, winking at Harry.

"Errh... No."

"Amortentia?"

"I don't think so."

"Lust p-"

"Seamus, that's enough" Dean said with a sigh. "I think he's got it."

Harry kept spreading butter on his toast and very pointedly not looking at them. Then he reached for the jam knife, and Seamus dedicated a brief thought to wondering how much would it hurt if Harry stabbed him with it, before asking:

"So... Are you, like... boyfriends?"

The Chosen One was mostly unfazed, but by his right side, Ron choked on his juice.

"We don't mind, really" Dean was quick to add, beaming. "He's... a bit nicer than he used to. And not so bad looking, I guess. And if you-"

"We have a betting pool" Seamus interrupted gravely.

That got Harry's attention, and half of the table's too. Just like that, they had dozens of people listening intently to what they had to say, so Dean, who had never liked too many eyes focused on him, faded in the background and let Seamus speak. Truthfully, it wasn't one of his best ideas.

"You have a betting pool on whatever I'm dating Draco or not" Harry said slowly, as if waiting for someone to contradict him.

No one did. Instead, Seamus grinned and nodded eagerly.

"Ah, so you've got it. Also, you've just called him Draco, so I think there are a few people who owe me thirty galleons."

A chorus of groans was heard, then, from everybody who knew they were included in that claim. Dean chuckled quietly, taking out of Seamus' bag the little notebook in which his friend noted the bets, and began scribbling on it.

"What the..." Harry hissed. "Seamus, are you having me on?"

Seamus waved a hand dismissively. "Harry, mate, I'm running a _business_ here, I don't have time for jokes."

"But-"

"No, no, I understand you're a bit confused" he continued, still grinning. "Thirty galleons per person is a small quantity, I'll give you that, but do you really think that's the only bet I'm running? That's one of the smallest ones, Harry, just for fun, but Dean and I have some others that... well, you wouldn't believe it. Just... look, people are discussing if Malfoy has a kink for calling you 'Potter' in the middle of... you know what. There are huge amounts of money on that one, _huge_ amounts, Harry."

It looked as if Harry's face couldn't decide on which colour to settle. It kept getting white, and then red, and then white again. Seamus wasn't sure if it was a good thing; Dean was positive it _wasn't_.

"Listen carefully, all of you, because I'm not repeating this" Harry finally said, glaring at everybody's general direction. "I'm _not_ dating Draco, or snogging him, or whatever you lot think we're doing. So you'd better refrain from asking, because next time the answer will be a hex." And just as his face settled on a bright red and he got up to leave, he added "And stop making bets on us, you sick fucks."

Seamus breathed a little lighter after he was gone, but he couldn't help turning towards Dean with a thoughtful frown.

"So... that's a _no_?"

Dean sighed. "Yes, Seamus, that's a _no_. A very clear one, at that."

"Well, then I guess we should ask Malfoy next."

"Ehm, Seamus, I don't think that's a good idea..."

And as usual, Dean was right: it wasn't. It definitely wasn't.

 

* * *

 

**4\. When Dumbledore's Portrait asked (because he'd always shipped them)**

Being a portrait wasn't a very interesting job.

Dumbledore would have almost prefered being dead, _truly_ dead and with no regrets, rather than being kept half-alive in a frame. Well, in a few ones; he had some mobility, at least. But he'd promised he'd watch over his dear students, and he'd already broken enough promises.

Minny, the sweetheart, reserved some time every week to tell him the latest news, but it was too brief for his taste, as she was still fretting over the whole being Headmistress thing, no matter how many times Dumbledore told her that she'd manage it with her eyes closed. He meant it, but Minerva seemed to think he was only trying to encourage her... which he was, but that didn't mean it wasn't true all the same.

The other portraits helped, somehow, to relief him of the burden of his boredom, but there was only so much they could do. Listening to the same stories over and over got old rather quickly.

So he could have probably been forgiven if he was more eager than concerned when he saw two of his favourite students walking into the Headmistress' office. In his defense, it had been an especially dull evening.

"Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy..." Minny said as they took a seat, those beautiful eyes of hers glowing with disappointment. "I must say, I wasn't expecting this. Is your need for antagonism so strong that, when you stop fighting each other, you have to hex your other companions?"

Dumbledore shifted in his frame, looking for a more comfortable position. He had the feeling there was a good story there, and he was _dying_ to hear it. Heh. Nobody could say that death had devoided him of his sense of humour.

"Professor McGonagall-" Harry started, but Draco elbowed him in the ribs and he mended himself. "Erhm... Headmistress..."

The reminder had been gentle, friendly, and that made Dumbledore wonder.

"Yes, Mister Potter?"

"We didn't intend to... I mean, everybody was making bets about us, so... Well, we did warn them, and-"

" _Shut up_ " Draco whispered urgently.

Minny shook her head, but anybody who know her would be able to tell she was trying not to smile.

"I'm aware of what your companions have been doing, Mister Potter. You didn't think I've called you here because of a few arguments, did you? I was going to assure you that I've taken the matter in my own hands." She paused and gave up on resisting, the smallest of the smiles brightening her face. "However, you should probably take Mister Malfoy's advice."

Dumbledore couldn't take it anymore.

"Minerva" he spoke up, startling the three of them. "Minerva, I've just been in the Great Hall and Peeves is causing havoc."

It wasn't true, of course. He hadn't moved frames for _hours_ , and any plans of doing so had been thrown out of the window as soon as he'd seen the boys. There was a little theory of his that he'd been trying to prove for years, and Minny hadn't mentioned that development when he'd asked her the week before. Desperate times allowed desperate measures, and so Dumbledore didn't feel an ounce of shame over lying to Minny.

It wasn't likely she'd recognize the lie as such, either, as she hadn't looked up even once since she's entered the room and neither had the boys.

And he was right, as usual. Minny pressed her lips together in a tight line and sighed.

"I still have a few things to discuss with you two" she warned, standing up. "Wait here. I'll be back as soon as possible."

"Don't worry, Minerva, dear" Dumbledore called after her, as she walked away. "I'll keep them entertained."

" _Dumbledore_ " Harry said as soon as she was gone.

There was a bit of wonder in it, a bit of recognition and joy, but it was also loaded with wariness. He looked at the boys again, intently, after he gave up on deciphering Harry's tone. Lily and James' son seemed to be happy to see him, even if just a little bit. Draco, on his part, stared at him silently, fear and shame lurking his eyes. Dumbledore smiled at him kindly, and then at Harry, too.

"It's been a while, Mister Malfoy, Harry" he said cheerfully. "How's life treating you both?"

"We're fine, Headmaster" Harry replied, and there was a slight movement that told Dumbledore that he'd probably just taken Draco's hand in his, but he couldn't be sure, as the desk was blocking his view.

"Ah, that's good, yes, that's good..." he mumbled, distracted with his own thoughts. "I've always know..."

"Headmaster?"

Draco's faint voice startled him out of his reverie, and he blinked in his portrait, focusing his attention back in them.

"Yes, yes. Go ahead, Mister Malfoy."

"I... I'm sorry... for everything, I guess" he said after a pause.

Dumbledore caught Harry beaming at him with pride, and smiled to himself.

"It was not your fault, my boy" he dismissed. "However, there's something I've been meaning to ask you both..."

He scrutinized the boys... no, the _men_ in front of him, weighing his words. He'd already made enough mistakes in life, and still... he couldn't hold his curiosity back; it was one of the only things he had left.

"Dumbledore?" Harry prompted, and that was what made him decide.

"Yes, I'm sorry" he apologized, beaming. "Old men like me, always lost in dreams... ah, excuse me. I'm back, I'm back. There's this one thing I want to ask you, Harry, Mister Malfoy. I wouldn't have, before, but in the light of the latest events... Well, dear boys, I'm being rather meddlesome, I'm afraid, but still..." He frowned thoughtfully, and then smiled again "Are you two a couple?"

Draco's eyes were wide open and there was a blush spreading across his cheeks, lessening his resemblance with his Father, and Dumbledore couldn't say he wasn't glad for small favours. Harry, however, was scowling at him, even if it was quite obvious he was holding back a smile.

"What...?"

"No, Headmaster, we're not... a _couple_ " Harry answered, shaking his head. "We're..." he hesitated and looked at Draco, who shrugged faintly. "We're friends."

"Oh." Dumbledore hadn't been expecting that. He was half sure they were lying, true, but he was still surprised. "Well, it's a pity."

And it was.

Not only life was denying him the joy of seeing those two finally together, but also, Minny would never let him live it down.

 

* * *

 

**5\. When Molly and Narcissa sent separate letters to ask (because they were getting concerned)**

Even if they would never admit it, Molly Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy had something in common: they both loved their children.

Draco hadn't written Narcissa in a long while, and she knew her son; he was the kind of boy that could barely spend a week without writing her, and it had been _a month and a half_ , and counting! That could only indicate trouble, and she'd read enough newspapers to make Harry Potter her main suspect. After all, every single writer out there agreed on one thing, and it was that lately Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had formed an unlikely friendship; the issue semed to be if that friendship had become a sexual relationship too, or a romantic one.

Narcissa wouldn't know, because Draco hadn't told her, he hadn't told her _anything_ in a long while, and she was growing concerned.

Unknown to both women, Molly was having the same problem. Harry, whom she considered one of her children, had been awfully silent since the start of the term. She hadn't been worried at first, because he didn't write as often as Percy used to... none of her children did, actually. But then Ron had sent her a letter, which was startling in itself, and he told her that he was worried about  _Harry's choice of friends_ , as he put it, and Molly had read the papers too, so she knew what he meant. Besides, he'd added something about people making bets on Harry and Malfoy Junior, and some disturbing rumours he'd been hearing.

Her poor boy... he thought he was sneaky, but Molly knew from the very instant she read the letter that he was trying to make her look into the matter and inform him, to calm his worries. And Molly would. Well, she would do a bit of research, but she wasn't sure about informing Ron; he'd always been a bit _delicate_.

Molly Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy were connected, in some ways. They shared some thoughts, and some feelings, and something in the world clicked as it fit into its right place the day they both sent a letter to their respective sons, _on the same day_.

Narcissa's letter arrived in a white envelope, her small, flowery handwriting barely filling the parchment.

_Draco,_

_You might not be aware that you last wrote in September, and at risk of sounding too inquisitive, what I know you'd hate, I need to ask you what you've been doing to forget your poor Mother._

_I can't help being rather suspicious, as I recently read several newspapers that believed in the existence of a romantic relationship between you and Mister Potter. Don't get me wrong, my dear, I've gotten quite a like to Mister Potter, and let's not disregard the fact that, were you involved with him, our family name would be linked to something good for once._

_However, I'd be even more pleased if you deigned to inform me before the papers take hold of the news. Please answer soon, and don't dare to try lying to me, because I'll know, and you'll get no more cinnamon pie for Christmas.  
_

_Love, Narcissa._

And then came Molly's letter, scrawled in a piece of paper ripped from somewhere. It was a quick note written between chores, because she didn't have time for anything else, but it smelled like chocolate biscuits and home.

_Harry, sweetheart, I haven't heard from you in a while!_

_People are gossiping about you, as always, and what is going around lately is more scandalous than usual. There's word that you and Draco Malfoy are a couple, and I know I shouldn't believe the rumours, but I can't help but wonder how much of that is true. We've never been in good terms with the Malfoys, as you know, but if you love Draco, then it's settled, we'll forgive and forget for you, darling._

_Write me back as soon as you can, and if it's true, we should talk about you bringing him to the Burrow for Christmas._

_Molly._

Both women received, in essence, the same answer, and they were both oddly disappointed by it: _Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy and I aren't a couple_. However, another thing Narcissa Malfoy and Molly Weasley had in common was that they were clever women.

They didn't believe a single word. Still, only time would tell.

 

* * *

 

**+1. When Ron asked (because he'd never known when to shut his mouth)**

He should have known better.

In eighteenth years of existence, and Ron Weasley hadn't learnt yet when to ask and when to let it be. And if he didn't know by then, it was probably too late to learn, although that was not something he'd dare to say in front of Hermione, since she'd never, never agree. In fact, she'd set her mind with the only objective of proving him wrong, and honestly, Ron'd had enough.

He wasn't always the last one to notice something. This time in particular, he hadn't been very perceptive, alright, but that didn't mean he was blind, or a hopeless idiot, or completely oblivious, which were some of the things his friends had called him after they realized he had just found out what everybody had been talking about for months.

Ron had seen signals.

For starters, Harry had gotten awfully close to Malfoy, to the point that he'd leave him and Hermione behind with a blabbered _I have to meet with Malfoy_. Then Malfoy had become Draco, but not even then Ron had worried, because Hermione was pretty cosy with Pansy Parkinson by then too, and more and more students were starting to befriend Slytherins as the wounds left by the war healed.

He'd also caught Harry talking with Malfoy's friends once or twice, although they seemed to be the ones who chase him and not the other way around. Blaise Zabini was especially persistent, for a while, but he gave up in a few days. Parkinson only ever went to Harry when she was accompanied by Hermione, so Ron guessed it was alright.

What had made him the most suspicious had been Seamus and Dean's betting pool. He'd been aware many of his friends were placing bets on Harry and Malfoy doing... ugh, a lot of things he'd rather not think about. But he hadn't minded much, as long as Harry didn't either, until that scene the month before, in which Harry went bonkers after Seamus asked him about his and Malfoy's imaginary sex life. Or at least, Ron hoped it was imaginary.

He hadn't been able to forget that, and suddenly everybody was telling him that it was just so _obvious_ that Malfoy and Harry were dating, and Ron couldn't believe it, didn't want to, so he wrote a letter to his mom and hoped she'd find out the truth. Because really, he wasn't about to ask Harry if he had a _thing_ with Malfoy, especially considering that he'd already been sent to McGonagall's office after hexing some students for asking.

His mom had written back, but she had somehow managed to tell nothing.

So Ron didn't have a choice, he truly didn't. He couldn't let it go.

That was why, a week before Christmas holidays, he decided to take advantage of Harry's sudden good mood. He should have probably chosen a moment in which he wasn't talking with Malfoy, though.

"Hey, Harry" he greeted, stepping in front of the pair and almost making them trip.

He must have sounded over cheerful, for Harry looked wary, and Malfoy, amused.

"Hey, Ron. Is everything okay?"

"Okay?" he replied, jumping a bit on his place. "Oh, sure, yes, okay. I just... erhm..."

Malfoy snorted and looked at Harry.

"I didn't know Weasley was related to Dumbledore."

Ron didn't see what was so funny, he really didn't, but Harry burst out laughing and it hadn't sounded like an insult anyway, not exactly, so he let it pass.

"Mate, I was wondering..."

"Ron, spill it" Harry huffed, beaming.

"Yes, well, I've heard this crazy rumours, and..."

His friend's face fell at that, and Ron suddenly had the premonition that he hadn't been the first one to begin his inquiry with those very words. Malfoy still looked amused, though, and he exchanged an odd glance with Harry. Ron didn't want to know its meaning. And he was starting to get a bit afraid of finishing what he was trying to say.

"Let me guess, you're wondering if Draco and I are dating."

"That's... Yeah, that's it. Sorry, mate, it was a ridiculous question-"

Ron stepped away, feeling as if something were trying to claw out of his skin, and shivered. But Malfoy's hand shot out to grab his arm, and the mere shock was enough to make him stay. Fortunately, as soon as he was sure he wouldn't get away, Malfoy released him.

"Oh, no, Weasley, I think that might be one of the few good questions you've ever asked."

"Draco..." Harry muttered in a warning tone.

Malfoy only smiled wider, and Ron's urge to run away got stronger in response.

"Yes, Weasley" he said, making no bloody sense.

Ron couldn't help it, he truly couldn't.

"Yes, _what_ , Malfoy?"

"Yes, Weasley, Harry and I are dating."

Ron would have survived the revelation with only minor consequences. Even taking into account that Harry didn't call Malfoy out for being a filthy little liar, which meant that what he'd said was _true_ , and oh, Merlin, he hadn't lived through the war for that shite to be thrown at him. But still, he would have been fine. Eventually. If Malfoy hadn't been such an arsehole.

Every time that story was told later, Ron would deny it, but the truth was the truth, and in short, this is what happened: Malfoy smirked at him, winked at a few students that were present and gaping at them, and then he kissed Harry. Full in the lips. With _tongue_.

And then it was when Ron fainted.

When he woke up again, Hermione was cradling him in her lap while she and Parkinson scolded Harry and Malfoy, who apparently had dared to _lie_ to them and yadda yadda. Zabini observed them, shaking his head, and spoke only once, to tell Malfoy that he'd better practice his Muffliato, which made no sense to Ron. Dean and Seamus weren't around, but Ron was positive that they were somewhere in the castle, collecting winnings, and that by the end of the afternoon, they'd have more galleons that Gringotts.

His head hurt like hell with all that noise, but somehow, all he cold thinkwas how his mom would surely invite Malfoy to the Burrow as soon as she found out.

" _Bloody shite_ , Christmas with Malfoy" he whispered very quietly to himself.

And from a portrait frame hanging in the corridor, Dumbledore winked at him.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a few more drabbles like this planned, all 5+1 fics (4 more, actually), even if it'll take me a while, but I don't think any of them will be as silly as this one, so enjoy the fluff while you can.


End file.
